Prince Shotoku, who dedicated the temple at Horyuji,
the moment he was born leapt up to pray
fourteen centuries ago and quite unlike our Rupert
who was six weeks till his first smile.
We stare at the deer. Now in Nara Prefecture
eight months older, in temples of shopping
and mountain air, his gestures much closer to thought.
Existing in a state no one’s ever known.
My book’s page. Its black ink.
And it’s not quite prayer.
More like paper’s feel
of the words.
And a bell resounds.